e rapper to come in.

The door opened and the clerk of the house entered, bringing with him
the house register, which he held open in his hand.

"I beg your pardon for this unseasonable intrusion, madam," he said, as
he laid the open book down on the table before her; "but being called
upon to report this sad case of the drowning of a guest of this house, I
find some difficulty in making out the name, for the poor young
gentleman does not seem to have written very clearly. The name is
registered C. or G. something or other. But whether it is Hyte or Flyte
or Kyle or Hyle, none of us can make out."

Mary Grey smiled within herself, as she secretly rejoiced at the
opportunity of concealing the real name and identity of Craven Kyte with
the drowned man.

So she drew the book toward her and said, with an affectation of
weariness and impatience, as she gazed upon poor Craven's illegible
hieroglyphics:

"Why, the name is quite plain! It is G. Hyle--H-y-l-e. Don't you see?"

"Oh, yes, madam! I see now quite plainly. Excuse me: they ask for the
full name. Would you please to tell me what the initial G stands for?"

"Certainly. It stands for Gaston. His name was Gaston Hyle. He was a
foreigner, as his name shows. There, there, pray do not talk to me any
more! I can not bear it," said Mary Grey, affecting symptoms of
hysterical grief.

"I beg your pardon for having troubled you, madam, indeed! And I thank
you for the information you have given me. Good-day, madam," said the
clerk, bowing kindly and courteously as he withdrew.

The next day the newspapers, under the head of casualties, published the
following paragraph:

"On Friday evening last a young man, a foreigner, of
the name of Gaston Hyle, who had been stopping at the
Star Hotel, Havre-de-Grace, was accidentally drowned
while boating on the river. His body has not yet been
recovered."

No, nor his body never was recovered.

Mary Grey, for form's sake, remained a week at Havre-de-Grace, affecting
great anxiety for the recovery of that body. But she shut herself up in
her room, pretending the deepest grief, and upon this pretext refusing
all sympathizing visits, even from the ladies who had shown her so much
kindness on the night of the catastrophe, and from the clergy, who would
have offered her religious consolation.

The true reason of her seclusion was that she did not wish her features
to become familiar to these people, lest at some